


Monachopsis

by DianaSolaris



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: (SFW), Dissociation, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Sharing a Body
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-23 02:52:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13180851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DianaSolaris/pseuds/DianaSolaris
Summary: Ling Yao had worked for being emperor all his life; he supposed, with how much he had riding on it, it was inevitable that he would end up sitting in the throne with a subtle, persistent nagging feeling that he hadn’t earned it. It didn't help that he wasn't alone. Post-canon divergence fic for Altamiya!





	1. MONACHOPSIS

Ling Yao had worked for being emperor all his life; he supposed, with how much he had riding on it, it was inevitable that he would end up sitting in the throne with a subtle, persistent nagging feeling that he hadn’t earned it. No, not even that; he felt out of place, like the world was moving past him at speeds he couldn’t comprehend, or perhaps in slow-motion – one moment it’d feel like one, and the next it’d feel like the other.

                It left him feeling dizzy and exhausted, almost every day. He’d leave the throne room and feel his burden settle back onto his shoulders. Even on days when nothing much happened, it pervaded his blood like a poison.

                _That should be a sign, kid._

And then there was the voice that he struggled – and, repeatedly, failed – to ignore.

                Ling wondered if Greed would just go away if he ignored him.

                _I won’t, and you know that._

“I didn’t ask for this,” Ling mumbled to himself. He was alone in his room, now, and he set about the task of ridding himself of the emperor’s robes. They fell, fold after heavy fold, to the floor, rich ombre and topaz hues mixed in with scarlet thread and pieces of brocade.

                _Those must be heavy._

“I didn’t ask for this,” Ling grumbled yet again. “You were supposed to leave.”

                _You haven’t used the Stone to make me a new body yet. Where am I supposed to go?_

The Stone.

                Now that the robes were off, Ling stood in front of the mirror in his undershirt, and the red glint of the Stone at his neck caught his eye even as he tried to ignore it. The bottle was so _small._ But it was heavier than any robes, any crown, anything else he could possibly wear.

                Ling pulled the comb out of his hair and let it fall around his shoulders. Then he opened his eyes, fully, staring at himself and wondering if his eyes would ever stop being purple.


	2. OPIA

He couldn’t hide anything from Ranfan, but the reason he loved her, in the end, was that she was smart enough to keep her mouth shut. Behind the mask, he didn’t have to see the looks of concern or suspicion that she aimed at him whenever he was acting strange.

                When her mask came off, on the other hand –

                She never _said_ anything wrong or explicitly concerned. It was “Yes, Master Yao”, and “Yes, Your Eternal Divinity” – the last, admittedly, usually with a dose of major sarcasm which he was too amused by to take offense to – and, when they were alone, “Ling”. She always said it with a trembling hesitation, no matter how many times he reassured her that it was fine.

                “Hold on, hold on!” She reached up and brushed something away from his cheek. “Don’t go talking to your subjects with lint on your face. You’re an emperor, you need to look like one.”

                Ling felt the smile stretch over his face, the smile that was a little too broad, a little too predatory. And he saw the way she twitched, the tiny shake in her hand –

                “Everything’s fine,” he answered the question she hadn’t asked yet.

                “You told me-“

                “I should get inside.”

                And in the throne room, hearing the complaints and desires and wishes of his courtiers, he couldn’t help but relish in the greed around him. They want more. They always wanted more from him, more than he could spare, more than he could give, _more_.

                _I told you,_ Greed laughed from inside his head. And Ling held the laugh inside, but he couldn’t get the smile to dislodge from his face.

                He wondered how many faces Ranfan had seen, staring into his eyes – and how many had stared back at her.


	3. CHOISIS

                “It’s been a year since our Emperor’s successful return from Amestris! A toast, a toast, to the eternal divinity of our great and powerful ruler!”

                It was all bluster and posturing, sucking up and flattery, but Ling smiled anyway and raised the glass of sake with everybody else. He’s here. He’s made it.

                _You have a promise to keep._

Ling’s smile faded a little, but he managed to keep up the mask. He’d had a hundred and one excuses over the last year. But ultimately, it came down to one thing: if he gave Greed what he wants, he would lose the thing that keeps him in power, that preserves his position at the top of the totem-pole.

                And if he didn’t, it was something else he’d lose. His peace of mind. His understanding of himself.

                _Hey, no skin off my back,_ came the rough response. _But be honest with yourself, kid. You never pretended to be a good person. Why start now?_

Ling tipped the sake back and let it burn a line down his throat, sitting in his stomach like fire.

                The next morning, he woke up with bruises on his arms, bruises on his thighs, and a twisted feeling in his stomach. One moment, he’d been in control.

                And the next, it was all gone.


	4. DAGUERROLOGUE

“You promised. You _promised,_ ” Ling hissed, scrubbing blood out from under his fingernails, dirt from his kneecaps –

                _So did you, you fucking anklebiter. I want a body. If you don’t have another on offer, I’ll take yours._

“Just when I thought we had an understanding.”

                _I’m not your pet._

“And I’m not a truck for you to take on a joyride.”

                _So we’re at an impasse._

Ling closed his eyes. He could _see_ him, inside his soul, flowing in his blood, a remnant of a centuries-old massacre. Where had _Greed_ himself come from, Ling wondered, between all these scraps of souls?

                _I’m a piece of Daddy dearest._ Greed says it with no fanfare, no apology, just a blunt statement of fact. _He only hated me because I did all the things he wanted to do._

Daddy dearest. Ling scratched at his arm, pulling off another layer of dead skin. He hated remembering how alike he and Greed were. They’d gotten along. They’d worked together to get what they wanted.

                But that didn’t mean they were friends.

                _You were quite happy to think that before I was threatening you._ Greed was teasing him now. He hated it.

                “I was always going to get rid of you. One way or another.”

                _Too bad._

Ling could feel Greed smiling again. But he wouldn’t look in the mirror. Not this time.


	5. SONDER

                He’d forgotten that Ranfan had a life of her own. Not much of one; she was still the chief bodyguard. But he’d made a point of giving her nights off, and forgotten that she might be _doing_ something with them.

                There’s a girl. A young member of an offshoot of a noble family. She’s nineteen, twenty, and he hates the way she looks at Ranfan. Like Ranfan is the only girl in the world. Like the universe has shrunk down to just the two of them.

                He shouldn’t be watching. He only vaguely remembered coming here in the first place, like he woke up from a distant nightmare to find himself sitting on a rooftop, watching Ranfan kiss somebody else.

                “Makes you pretty mad, doesn’t it?” says his own mouth in his own voice.

                _You’re making me watch._

                “Oh, I had every intent of just going in there myself. But this is more fun.”

                _Go away,_ Ling tries to plead.

                “Keep your promise, and I will. Or, work with me again. Just because you’ve achieved what you want doesn’t mean there isn’t more to claim as your own.” Greed smirks. “Like the little lady down there.”

                _She doesn’t belong to me. And I don’t want to her to._

                It’s a lie. They both know it’s a lie. And even after Greed gives him back control of his own arms, his own legs, his own heart, Ling watches until Ranfan and her lover fall to the ground in a tangle of limbs, enjoying a privacy that Ling lost for himself a long time ago.


	6. TOXICOSIS

It was another morning of aches, another morning of _what happened last night,_ and Ling had had enough, he’d had _enough –_

                He cancelled all his appointments. He told Ranfan, _I’m just not feeling well,_ and trusted her to ignore his black eye, the limp with no known source, the crack his shoulder made every time he moved it.

                Then once the door was closed, he slid out of the window, and let the strength he’d been suppressing fill his muscles and rush through his bloodstream. He wasn’t a homunculus, not like Greed, not like the monsters he’d fought. But he wasn’t human anymore, either.

                The city blurred past him as he jumped from rooftop to rooftop, the early dawnlight turning the red slate orange under his feet. The capital of his empire. The gem in his crown. He could barely see it through the rage thundering under his skin.

                Then he was in the woods, and he was alone, except he was _never_ alone anymore, was he?

                “Get out of my head,” he growled.

                _I can’t._

                Ling yanked the Philosopher’s Stone from around his neck. “How do I do this? How do I give you what you want? I just want you _gone!_ ”

                Greed fell silent. Deafeningly silent. And Ling’s head started to hurt.

                “Greed?” he said after a while, too long a while. Had he done it? The Stone was still sitting in his hand, and he brought it to his face, breath clouding the glass.

                He was gone – perhaps.

                “Come back,” he whispered.

                And then the laughter began. Mocking and cruel and deep, deep inside Ling’s bones.

                _I knew you liked me._

“I don’t.” He didn’t. He hated this. But –

                _But loneliness is worse, isn’t it? Fine then, kid. I’ll stay. But you’ll do what I want. Otherwise you know what’ll happen._

The rage lit up inside him again. But Ling just closed his hand around the Stone, and nodded. It was easier. It was just – easier.

                Greed meant well. He could feel the fear of loneliness tinging the other soul’s words. They had no true secrets from each other.

                Greed meant well.

                It didn’t stop the fear, nor did it stop its slow slide into quiet, tired resignation. What was the point in fighting it? He’d kept trying. He’d failed. Every single time, he’d failed.

                _What would Ranfan think-_ asked his hidden, almost dead rationality.

                But Ranfan had other concerns now. And at the end of the day, it didn’t matter.

                _I’ll do what you want._

                The smile split his face again. Ling imagined he could feel his canines in wicked points, pressing on his tongue until it threatened to bleed.


	7. AVARITIA

                Ling Yao sat on the throne of the palace of the capital of the Xingese empire like he owned the place, and at the end of the day, he did. But he watched like a passenger out of his own eyes. He controlled his own mouth, his own lips – Greed had no talent for diplomacy – but he was tired. He was tired, and Greed had been born to covet, and in the end, it was all about learning how to coexist, if coexistence meant resigning himself to nothing more than a timeshare in his own flesh.

                Without an alchemist, he couldn’t make Greed a new body anyway. And he supposed, at the end of the day, he liked having a little secret of his own. A treasure. A secret-keeper.

                _I know what you crave. I know what you need. I know your flaws, your sins, the dirt on your hands,_ teased Greed from the back of his head.

                It wasn’t really a tease, though, if it was true.

                And with something as rich and heady as forced complicity and unmatchable trust flowing in his veins, it was no surprise that his palace seemed no steadier than cardboard, his food no more palatable than dust, and that the world seemed to flow by and around him like a glacier.

                Life moved by in high speed.

                Life moved by in slow motion.


End file.
